Red Is Our Calling
by SuccubusYuri
Summary: The banner of the Dominion or the blood in your veins, Red is the only color that calls us to duty.


Stares were common for Highborn women. Whatever it was about the Human animal that drew their eye to the feminine, out of desire, envy, and admiration, none had really pinned the impulse down.

Humans were, in general, a race to be admired. Such a passion for learning, a species whose chief attribute was that they were a race of puzzle solvers. True, they lent themselves to finding patterns in completely random chance, much to the chagrin of their Chua counterparts who thought it superstitious. And the obsession to work out the details, particularly the seemingly useless and petty ones, irritated their Mechari pledges for slowing down pragmatic progress. And their love of obfuscating their language caused more than a blank stare or two from their Draken associates.

But for its foibles, Humanity was the chosen of the Eldan, after all. An aesthetic flair to their works of engineering, an ambitious planning intellect that sought the greatest mysteries of the universe. A confidence bordering on arrogance that had led the Dominion to achieving that which the other races, particularly their opponents, never thought possible. Much as the Luminai might prefer themselves to be thought of as the brains of the Dominion, it was undoubtedly Humanity that made up its body, the heart of the living empire.

And many of those Human hearts were focused on the priestess who was making her rounds about the city. A tall, curved figure, almost two meters tall in her heels, with radiant golden-blonde hair and matching eyes, with full, dark lips that were always pursed into a fittingly condescending expression. Her cheekbones gave the impression they could cut glass, a characteristic as easily attributed to her elegant hands and finely cared for nails. Truly the only feature that betrayed the Human in her heritage was her darkened complexion. That and her rounded ears, hidden behind golden jewelry, but the traits of her Eldan blood were strong.

And everyone who saw the Highborn go about her rounds could see it. She looked just like those image-shopped photos on the covers of well-to-do women's magazines. Even though her attire was modest, it was rather form fitting, clinging tightly to a generous chest and almost bony frame. The red, white, and golden trim signifying her affiliation with the Vigilant Church, the robes were practically an evening gown.

It might have then been fitting then that she was entering reception for one of the Luminai houses in the capitol. The massive black iron gates swinging open to greet her, she walked briskly to escape the midday heat. Entering the gate of the estate, it was as much its own tiny enclave of servant quarters and administrative buildings that could direct the various spheres of influence a Luminai house could have.

Of course the first stop was the security checkpoint. She was quite accustomed to the guard rotation at House Azrion over the past few weeks, but for whatever reason there was a new face behind the desk. He seemed quite disinterested in anything, a little tablet in his hand, probably one of those gods-awful Tales pulp novels. He may have passed the dress code, but one could tell a Lowborn out of his element when they saw him. Hair slicked back from its natural, longer-than-customary length, and a mustache that screamed "day laborer", he might have just been a temp filling in on short notice.

"What's yu' business today?" he asked disinterestedly, reaching underneath the large desk for one of the official datapads, straining to put off his work until the very last possible moment.

The Highborn woman simply held a hand on her hips, looking down her nose at the sentry with more than a slight case of irritation, "I am here to see the Master of Records," she said in a deep, almost lyrical voice.

The guard, for his part, finally looked up to see the towering Highborn above him. He was quick to drop whatever datapad had interested him previously and scramble through the one from underneath the desk, "Ah, do you have an appointment? I can't let you through without a name on the guest list."

"My name is Inanna Astris. Tell the Master of Records I am here to see her."

The lazy Lowborn guard seemed to stand his ground, though, rather than be cowed by a person's status, "I'm afraid that I can't do that. Every visitor to the House must be pre-approved, no exceptions," he said, briefly scrolling through the list of appointments that day, setting the pad down when he was satisfied she wasn't on it.

"Even if a governor were here, you would turn him away?" the lady who had identified herself as Inanna Astris mocked his absolute stance.

"Not likely," the guard responded, "A governor would have made arrangements."

"I am busy keeping an assortment of Luminai houses on track," the Highborn countered, her hands slamming the desk, her golden eyes burning into him, "House Azrion has fallen behind, and there was no response to my calls. I am here to ensure the appropriate documents are ready for the Exodus, which I remind you, is less than two months away."

This only hardened her adversary's resolve. Of course he'd heard of the Emperor's plan to move his government to Nexus. Of course he'd heard of how the homeworld of the Eldan has been discovered, how the Luminai emperor had planned to reclaim the world of his ancestors. He was just Lowborn, not an imbecile. Turning on a very unnatural looking smile, he simply shrugged his shoulders, "I'm afraid, My Lady, that I can't let anyone through who isn't an approved guest."

At just this moment, before a small war could erupt at a security station, walked in a more seasoned security officer, one whom Inanna recognized. A man just passing out of middle age with greyed hair and a trim mustache wearing a cap, portly and fond of cigars, he walked over to interject himself into the conversation, "Ah, Lady Astris, is there a problem?"

"I need to speak with Sophia Cerulea," Inanna said in as flat a manner as her menacing voice would allow.

"Of course," the senior guard nodded, walking over to a comm behind the desk and dialing up the records office. After a short, quiet exchange, he nodded, turning back to the pair who had been staring each other down the whole time, "Lady Cerulea is on her way, if you would like to wait? Can I get you a drink, My Lady?"

Inanna nodded, "No, thank you, that's fine," she said, walking to a far off corner as far away from people as she could without putting herself outside in the oppressive heat.

The senior guard had pulled down to be near the newbie, taking on a very cautious tone. Not that it would have helped to whisper, even, Inanna could hear it all. But someone of noble birth was supposed to be above gossip, so she pretended not to be aware of the pair discussing her.

"I know you're new here, Max, but from now on don't be angering that one especially."

"Why's she…you know?" the younger guard asked, almost ignoring the warning and going straight for the Mammaothdowser in the room.

"That," the older guard bit his lip, trying not to let his eyes linger on Inanna as he tried to be discreet, "House Astris, few centuries ago, one of their 'ladies'," he said the word with a heavy helping of irony, "was carrying on an affair with a Luminai, so they say. Had a half Luminai bastard, if you'd believe that. But, the daughter lived to be something of 300 years old, while her siblings all passed a century before."

Inanna tapped her fingers against her folded arms, _Three hundred and forty-one_ , she corrected him in her head, referring to the very ancestor she had been named for.

The portly guard continued his tabloid expose to his colleague, "So, House Astris carries a lot of Luminai blood, but Highborn bein' what they is, won't publicly acknowledge it. Might even say they're mean about it, gives 'em all a big chip on their shoulder, as official-like, they're pretty distant from the royal line."

His younger colleague nodded, "So even for Highborn, not friendly?"

"Not exactly. Though she seems nice enough to me," he nodded at the present guest, "But when the widow Morgan worked here she tried givin' her the evil eye like you did, she gave it right back. Poor lady complained of nightmares til the day she retired."

Inanna would have listened to more of their conversation, as it was beginning to make her grin, but she noticed a young woman walking briskly from the direction of her target, and well dressed enough to look like she worked officially for the house. Her black hair was ornamental, tied up in a bun with golden sticks matching her rather formal attire. Inanna thought she recognized her as one of the interns, her pace quickening as she saw her quarry. The tall Highborn woman finally allowed herself to step outside to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Lady Astris!" the girl said a bit short of breath, "I am sorry, Lady Cerulea can't come to see you personally, but wanted to express her regret."

Inanna sighed, looking up towards the building that housed the records, "Very well, perhaps you can help me, then?" she asked, looking back to the young lady.

Who, for her part, either was accustomed to looking at noble ladies of a specific height, and being part Mechari had locked her neck into such a position, or was ogling Inanna's body when she thought she wouldn't be noticed.

Clearing her throat, and cracking a grin, Inanna continued, "If you could find a moment of your day to spare, I do need those records. Anything in the libraries that pertains to the Gods or the earliest days of the Luminai." She paused, as if striking on a new idea, "Even anything related to Millennial Mechari could prove useful."

The blushing intern tried to maintain composure after her faux pax, "Anything specific you're looking for, Lady Astris?"

"The Church will handle filtering the data, but we need copies of the documents sent to the cathedrals to begin the process."

The intern nodded, "I'll send over everything."

Inanna smiled warmly, disarmingly so at the practically-teenage girl who seemed to find her appealing, "Some of the older records may not be compatible file types, so you may not be able to copy them into a datacron, along with the paper-bound documents. If there's a way for you to get them by with Lady Cerulea's permission, you can send word that they're ready to be picked up, or bring them to the Nova Galen cathedral. I work in the libraries these days."

"Um, right!" the befuddled Cassian stammered, "I'll try to work that in, My Lady!"

Bending forward to be more at eye-level, the tall Highborn winked, "You can call me Inanna privately." Then, more sternly, "Tell Cerulea I'll be back in two days if I still don't have my files."

"Yes, My Lady," the supposed-intern smiled bashfully, offering a curt bow of her head.

Inanna turned, a practiced, calculated walk down the drive. Flirty girls made for eager servants, at least. Maybe now something would finally get done.

The walk back to the cathedral wasn't daunting, though for her part Inanna wished she could have walked beneath a few more shop awnings. She did surrender to temptation and got herself a cold drink at one of the merchants. A purple skinned Draken with a pair of too-large blue eyes smiled cheerfully, handing her the paper cup with a small straw in it. Aside from this she made her way to her own offices again, relieved she would be able to sit in the library and attend to the records she had already received from more cooperative houses. Brother Carl would be upset that her trip bore little fruit, but hopefully she could get out of any future visits if he'd just go himself.

Briskly walking in, the cathedral was actually an old monastery, converted as the suburbs had slowly been engulfed by the outskirts of Meridia centuries ago. The six noble houses, who had been wide, sweeping countryside estates now made up seven hills of the metropolis (owing, of course, to the Ghost House, but once entrenched a little thing like treason wasn't going to pry the Unions from their headquarters, even if the reigning house had succumbed).

Like most cathedrals, it was in the shape of the four-pronged Vigilant Star, with the elongated fore and aft, with small, stubby little side points. If there was going to be a cathedral on Nexus, it would certainly take the same shape. But what separated the old monasteries was the points of the stars, conjoined with other, smaller four pointed buildings into a type of constellation. Some of the largest, in the more beautiful vistas of Cassus, could contain as many as seven stars. But time and real estate had reduced the Nova Galen cathedral to three, the main hall where vigils were held, and two off branches, one housing the local clergy staff, and the other Inanna's domain, the library. An important function for a church bearing the name of the Scion of Knowledge.

It was what one would expect. Rows of shelves with books and datacrons both, all housing information considered important to the Church. Many were spiritual theses, set down by some of the greatest clergy in the Church's history. A majority of the material was only ostensibly-spiritual, historical documentation and biographies of the various Luminai, cataloguing the legacy of the Eldan in a secular form, appropriated by the church after the Decree. Some were treatises on military strategy, and others simple reference material on interrogation, public relations, and government theory. Any work that might be taken as important to one of the many branches of the church would be stored in libraries such as these. With several rows of private reading spaces, and along the walls, a line of personal desks for the library's staff, including Inanna's own.

Ten years ago she had been a rather quaint layabout, working funeral rites more than anything, seen as a more practical use of her time than reading. Not that the Church frowned on its more bookish, scholarly types, but they were obviously overshadowed by the exploits of the Legion and the sensational goings on of the Inquisition. With the sudden discovery of Nexus, all that dedication to scripture and history had brought the disciples of Galen a stunning rise in status.

Which is probably what brought the man who was sitting in Inanna's chair to her desk that day. Highborn, any stranger could see, judging by the way he wore his balding hair as if it wasn't. To say nothing of his audacity in occupying her sacred space. There was also a metal briefcase unceremoniously slung over her papers that looked far heavier than a man of his station would be accustomed to carrying around on his person.

"Lord Domitian," Inanna greeted him cooly, "We were not expecting you for some days."

"I was able to come to the capital early, and thought I would stop by. How come the archives?"

Inanna scoffed, "Everyone who ever attended a vigil is suddenly interested in ancient history," she said with her deep, melodic scorn, "The comm channels are inundated with sponsored bureaucrats to honest well wishers."

Domitian's face grew excited, like one of those animatronic robots at kids restaurants, "Exciting times," he spoke barely above a whisper. Then, more naturally, "You will be on schedule? If even the smallest record doesn't come with the Exodus, it might impede the Emperor's goals."

"I'll see to it," she reassured him.

The man slapped his knees, "Good!" he shouted, rising, "And I also feel congratulations are in order."

Inanna tilted her head inquisitively, "Congratulations?" she folded her hands politely in front of herself with the question.

"Why of course," Domitian feigned that his information was public knowledge, "After all these years it must have been hard on you. I know I've heard more than one of our colleagues decry your interest in the old mythologies. I believe even the word 'pitiable' was used once, no doubt referring to, erm," he waved his hand up and down Inanna's body, "Certain insecurities."

The tall woman simply tapped her thumbs together, as a proper lady should, _You're probably the one who said them you stuffy shirted…_

"But all that hard work has paid off, hasn't it? One of the resident experts in ancient Luminai and the Gods," Domitian continued.

"Paid off?" she repeated his words again.

"Yes," he smiled warmly, so genuine that Inanna felt maybe even he believed it, "Your petition to go to Nexus has been approved. In fact, almost all our Eldan scholars will be joining you. The Church feels that now is the time for such knowledge as ever."

 _Eldan scholars_. Domitian had said the term without a trace of irony. The running joke being, even amongst fellow disciples of Galen, that Eldan scholars simply read the same four books over and over again. Which of course were the works the public knew better, those firsthand biographies of Dominus Half Blood and memoirs of noted Mechari Millennials. But Inanna also knew more about the old Cassian Commonwealth than any academy student would learn and forget in their time. She was also well acquainted with the lives of the Scions, as if their lives were her own family. Truly the field was as much knowing the world at the time of the Founding as it was reading what few quotes were left of the gods.

Domitian snapped open his briefcase, rifling through the assorted papers, "It might seem a bit old fashioned, but Luminai Varik was quite insistent that this be a ceremonial occasion," Domitian rambled, buying himself some time from silence as he tried to find the document he was looking for. "He would not be dissuaded. And you and I are the Luminai's humble servants, after all," he added. Inanna rolled her eyes while he wasn't looking. Even now, others were quick to point out she was 'merely Human' in their roundabout ways. As if they were the first person she had ever heard such a passive aggressive insult from. Certainly not from the children in school who bullied her, jealous of her luck, of her golden hair and eyes. And not from her own extended family who would never share her grace and blessings. Certainly a lazy sling from an old man would shatter her self respect and make her repent her lineage.

The aging bureaucrat let the casual insult hang until he came across a leaf in his bundle of papers. Examining it more closely, he nodded, "Ah," and he slipped it free like a mythical talisman trapped in stone, bowing his head slightly with a smile, "This is your requisition visa. The travel passports will be issued on the first of the month. This will be your voucher. Do not lose it," he said as if instructing a child.

But Inanna was too eager to snatch the stationery from him to pay his condescension much mind. In a glorious red and gold letterhead, there it was indeed. Lines were split oddly, certainly to facilitate its processing later on, but it was, without a doubt, in her very hands.

 _By the order of Emperor Myrcalus, His reign be virtuous, for the glory of the Dominion and prosperity of her people,_ _Inanna Astris of House Astris_ _, liegeman family to_ _House Tristan_ _, will join His Eminence on Nexus, in the capacity of __researcher for the Vigilant Church._ _Let the Gods' will be done._

Inanna allowed herself a smile, "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes fixated on the paper, as if turning away for a moment would cause the words to spontaneously re-assemble into a rejection.

"Well, I'm sure you're busy," Domitian said, closing his case and walking around the desk, "As we all are, these days," his mouth flashed a cheek-straining smile before heading out the door, "Good luck, My Lady," he offered his parting words, his voice already distracted by his next stop.

Inanna ignored him, her elegant fingers were tracing over the lettering. It was indeed her name, and that was indeed the royal seal. Did it truly matter if it was rushed over the governor's desk to earn it? That for all the talk of taking "the best of the best", that the administrative offices were taking their cues from middle management's lists and rubber stamping them? What did that really matter in the end?

She was going to Nexus. She would walk the lands of her forebears. The world of the gods.


End file.
